


Ticking Down

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-24
Updated: 2010-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: More appealing is the warm, heavy body on Jared's lap, arms and legs braided together while the volume of the football game is turned low.  He's free to touch Jensen without care of the hours ticking away.  A day only wasted by the standards of inanimate task masters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**TICKING DOWN**

**pairing.** Jared/Jensen (non AU)

**rating.** NC17 for sex and language

 

**summary.** Written for **pornfriday**. This was a snippet that sat on my hard drive for months, and it did no good there. It's BJ porn. It's not even _plotty_ BJ porn, so there. I was trying to write something that didn't use a lot of cliched terms, but I think I failed miserably in that I'm pretty sure I ended up including them ALL. Thanks to annabeth for helping me whip this sucker into shape!

 

 

 

The chimes on the hall clock insist that it's nearly two in the afternoon, shrill melody adamant that the two men abandon the living room and make something of their Sunday.

 

They go ignored.

 

More appealing is the warm, heavy body on Jared's lap, arms and legs braided together while the volume of the football game on television is turned low. He's free to touch Jensen without care of the hours ticking away. A day only wasted by the standards of inanimate task masters. Jared's too busy thinking in terms of skin and marks left on it. Impressions his fingers revisit with careful possession.

 

Dwindling winter sunshine slides through the shutters, catching dust in the air and illuminating the ginger in Jensen's hair that no amount of _Dean_ can fully banish. The soft, unwashed strands tickle and press on Jared's forehead as their nap in the deep-cushioned chair turns into something else.

 

This is all so fresh between them—their relationship just passing frenzy to that place where understanding starts to replace infatuation, but tender spots still exist. It means moving carefully towards the same end, something Jared and Jensen still don't talk about but they both know it's there. It means lazy Sundays wrapped up in each other without letting the rest of the world in and not feeling guilty about it.

 

Jensen's pants are more fuzz than fabric,worn-soft and frictionless where they slide—pulled and pushed—against Jared's nylon pants. Jared's fingers dip below the loose elastic waist to touch sweaty skin underneath, pushing the wetness into warm valleys. Jensen is shirtless, body half on Jared's lap. He didn't bother with the closet when he could just pick up pajama pants from the floor and wander out in time to grab his half of a Texas-size omelet and coffee. Jared applauds that decision now with worshipful hands, Jensen's heat soaking through Jared's t-shirt to warm his stomach. But the heat of their mouths is the greatest—tongues set to simmer for nearly an hour.

 

From the outside they must look awkwardly knotted together, sharing the single overstuffed chair like any space between them is unacceptable. But their limbs slot together, Jensen's body starting to curl like holiday ribbon—falling to the side off Jared's thighs and tucking between Jared's shoulder and the back of the chair. Jared has to turn on his side, keeping their legs hooked at the knees, to stay connected with Jensen's mouth. Making out morphed into heavy petting; Jared is reluctant to push any further lest he ruin this perfect chance. Slow and easy is never really their style thanks to schedule constraints and the overwhelming urge to just _sleep_ when they have time off. Jared's already spent an hour getting Jensen horny enough that words won't make it past his lips, only moans and whimpers.

 

Jared's blood has turned to honey in his veins, Jensen drinking him down sweet and slow. His arm pushes down into the space between Jensen's back and the padded arm of the chair, fingers stretching lower—wet, loose heat around his knuckles—and Jensen's abs clench. Jared's other hand presses and skims, rubbing until the outer layers come off and it's just Jensen under the pads of his fingers.

 

They've been hard against each other from the moment Jensen fit himself between Jared's thighs—contagious burn in his eyes that heated Jared from the core. Now Jared rocks forward against Jensen's erection. He can smell it, taste it in the air—mouth watering at the idea of swallowing Jensen again. Jared pushes Jensen further over into the chair, bearing down atop him and sliding the threadbare pants down Jensen's hips and off. A string of unflattering words fills Jared's mind when he realizes just how desperately he wants Jensen stretching his throat, hitting his cheek and leaving trails of himself all over Jared's face. He wants it to be messy and obscene—can have it with Jensen, isn't afraid to let himself go or push too far. Jensen can stop him with one touch, but doesn't.

 

The skin covering Jensen's stomach and hips is flushed, stained with the rush of arousal. Thick erection heavy on his belly, reddened flesh a magnet for Jared's mouth. Jared goes to his knees in front of the chair and draws Jensen's cock in, sparing a glance up to see Jensen's face go tight and desperate. With the head settled on his tongue, Jared starts a long, slow suck, saliva leaking from the stretched corners of his mouth to fall on Jensen's skin.

 

The announcer's commentary fades to a dull wash in Jared's ears, more attuned to the hitch on Jensen's breath. Jensen's muscles lock, thighs tense as he tries to just take what Jared's offering and not an inch more. But Jared wants to give him more, let Jensen take everything without the slightest hesitation. He doesn't move any faster, but the blowjob gets wetter. The low slurp of loose lips over wet flesh is done with purpose, Jared's spit wetting Jensen's soft hairs until they're dark and pressed flat to his groin in filthy, wet patterns. But he goes slowly, deliberately drawn out because Jared has nowhere better to be than right here between Jensen's knees.

 

Jensen takes a deep breath that fills his chest and Jared looks up at him. He knows what Jensen wants, feels it in the way the muscles beneath his hands strain. Jared says nothing, keeps his mouth slick and slack around Jensen's erection, waits for Jensen to cotton on. Jensen's hips stutter up, edging against Jared's throat. There's a look, a beat of silence between them when Jensen realizes that he _can_ ; more, that he _should_. Jensen's head falls back and from the sound he makes, Jared imagines his eyes rolling back. With want taking over, Jensen's hips go loose, driving up into Jared's throat, no longer holding back.

 

_Fuck_ , that's hot.

 

Jared could come just from this. Jensen wouldn't believe him, but Jared's dick is hard, rubbing on the inside of his track pants each time Jensen pushes deep into his throat. He's good at this; in the darkness where Jared can't see Jensen's eyes, he'll tell Jared just how good he is, spelling it out with dirty words and curses that spin Jared higher, make him more determined. Jared doesn't need to stroke his cock, or rub off on Jensen to come when he hears those things; they're enough. No words now but it's just as hot, the urge to choke around Jensen and how big he feels in Jared's mouth. Uncontrolled and free, Jensen uses Jared's throat until he's on the edge, almost punishing in the way he stretches Jared's lips. He pushes and pushes until Jared's on the verge of gagging, saliva running down to the base of Jensen's dick. Jensen's coming just as Jared is getting desperate for air, pulling off and letting Jensen's come drop between his thighs and on his balls to mix with spit and sweat.

 

God, it's so fucking dirty and they'll need showers, but Jared wants to rut through the mess. Jensen's limbs sag and drop without Jared's five-fingered grip; he's catching his breath, watching Jared through half open eyes. Jared gets rid of his pants and hikes Jensen around so his ass is hanging off the edge of the chair, head bent awkwardly against the back but there's no protest. Holding Jensen's legs tightly together, Jared pushes them to the side, sliding his dick through the space created, uses his body to hold Jensen down while he fucks Jensen's thighs, bent low. It's warm and soaked, not as tight as Jensen's body but it's better right now. While Jensen's mouth is open and panting, Jared's tongue slides in, rubbing on pointed canines and down across the soft flesh under Jensen's tongue.

 

When he pulls back from the deep, sloppy kiss, Jensen's breath keeps time.

 

"That's it—yeah, Jay." Soft, arousing encouragement is exhaled across Jared's cheek. "You ready to come?"

 

Jared can't answer, throat sore and rough and so damn good.

 

"Can't even talk?" Jensen laughs quietly, deep rumble felt in Jared's stomach, too. "Throat too sore, Jay? Did I go too deep?"

 

Nods and tucks his face into Jensen's neck, inhaling the bed-sweat smells that linger. Cock fucking, sliding easily between Jensen's tight thighs.

 

"You like it, I know." Jared feels the words in Jensen's throat, can't meet Jensen's eyes. "Like my big cock in your mouth, making you feel it for days. Know it makes you so hot, Jay. Bet you're still thinking about it now, when you can have it again."

 

"Jen..." Jared moans, scratchy and used; wonders if Jensen even hears him. "When?"

 

"Whenever you want." Hands slip around Jared's hips, forcing his thrusts right into Jensen's belly, against his soft, wet cock. "Let you have it whenever, Jay. Always want you—around me, on your knees, in me."

 

Jared could make the same confession—always at the mercy of Jensen's body. He's known, but to hear it...

 

"Always?'

 

"Always," Jensen whispers, keeping his legs tight and his words low until Jared comes, adding his own mess to the stickiness between Jensen's thighs.

 

Jensen rolls his hips, Jared moaning at the feel of his sensitive cock sliding in warm grooves. He twitches, spent, and they both wind back into a tangle, kissing throughout. Jared's mind can't think outside of nonsense: stomach jumping from Jensen's confession, more than happy to stay here where it's warm. Jensen sidles away to take a deep breath but that's where the movement stops. A cheer goes up on the television; neither of them bother to look. 

 

Eventually Jared finds their pants, but putting them back on is unappealing. Despite his pout, Jensen's pants are sacrificed to clean up their mess on their stomachs and thighs, and Jared takes them straight to the laundry room. He detours for clean boxers from the bedroom. Jensen is on the couch when he gets back, hands grabbing for a fresh pair of shorts. They settle down—sun's rays hitting the couch perfectly on its way to the horizon—and all Jared hears for the rest of the afternoon are deep, even breaths where Jensen has fallen back asleep.

 

By the time the clock strikes four Jared's dozing, too; the shrill chimes ring on, ignored.

 

 

FIN.


End file.
